Strawberry Jam
by Rainnboots
Summary: The very first encounter of one very young Jim Halpert and the future apple of his eye, Pam Beesly. Pre-series.


**Author's Note:** Hey, people! So, this is my first _Office _story. I have a lot of friends who are die-hard Dunder Mifflin fans, so I've watched a few episodes and get the main gist of the show. I'm a fan of the Jam affair, and this is what comes out of a hankering to write a cute little one-shot. Major, major creds to Gandalf3213 for cleaning this one up for me and getting it ready for posting; thanks so much, you guys!

**Reviews:** Love some good constructive criticisim! And flames are lame, man.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. Not even strawberry jam.

* * *

Pam Beesly sniffed, wiping her eyes with the hem of her skirt, her knees pulled up to her chest.

_Stupid boys_, she thought. _They always take my lunch! And Mom put strawberry jam on my sandwich today. I love jam._

She sighed, looking around the tiny yellow crawling tube and listening to the other kids laughing on the playground. She jumped as someone knocked on the edge of the tube.

"'Lo?" came a tiny voice.

"What do you want?" Pam said angrily.

"Are you okay?" It was a boy, and he peeked into the tube, looking really funny 'cause his head was kind of cut off from his body, so it was just a goofy-looking face staring at her with the same look her mom had when Pam had boo-boos from running too fast.

"Go away," said Pam. "I hate boys."

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

"You're always taking my lunch!" she said, pounding her small fist on the bottom of the playground equipment, as indignant as a small child could be.

"Oh," the boy said, looking down sadly. "I'm sorry. You want some of my lunch?"

Pam looked at the boy, spying the Batman lunchbox at his side.

"My mom made me a PB&J sandwich and she gave me a gi-_normus_ cookie since I've been helpin' 'round the house so much."

"I hate jelly." Pam made a face.

"Me too." said the boy. "I only like jam."

"Jam?"

The boy nodded.

"Uh-huh, it's strawberry; my mommy makes it _all_ by herself." he climbed into the tube, pulling his knees up and settling next to Pam.

"I love strawberry jam!" said Pam. "That's the kind my mom put on my sandwich today!"

Oh, she wished she had that sandwich!

The boy unzipped his lunchbox, pulling out the sandwich.

"What's your name?" he asked, ripping the sandwich in half.

"Pam Beesly." she answered. "What's your name?"

"Jim Halpert." he said, handing her the ripped, slightly bigger half. He looked at the remaining half of the sandwich, jam leaking onto his hand. "Hey, Pam loves strawberry jam! That rhymes!"

They'd just learned about rhymes, like Dr. Seuss in Jim's favorite book from last year, when he still liked baby things.

Pam laughed in childish delight, jam on her cheeks.

"You got jam on your face." said Jim, pointing to her rosy cheeks, made an unnatural red by the sticky substance.

"Whoopsies," said Pam, wiping her face on her skirt. "Don't tell my mom I did that, okay? She hates it when I wipe my face on my skirt." She whispered the last part, as if it was a secret, but the whisper came out as more of a raspy shout as Pam, like most children her age, knew only one volume: loud.

Jim nodded earnestly.

"Hey Pam?"

"Yeah?"

"You want to be my friend?" A smiling face looked at Pam, the smile so absolutely large that it reminded her of Pooh Bear, the big yellow character she'd started to claim to hate, since everyone else didn't like him no more neither.

"Why?" Pam tilted her head.

"Well, I like you. And when you like somebody, aren't you supposed to be their friend?"

"I guess so." said Pam, shrugging.

"So, do you wanna?"

"Sure." She had a lot of friends, like their teacher who gave her a star every week, even if she forgot to make her t's right and they came out like an l, and she was friends with the bus driver and the boy next door who showed her how to catch worms. Her mommy said that making friends was good, so she was being good if she made friends with this funny-looking kid.

Jim grinned, his teeth showing.

"Do you like me?" asked Jim. Not shy at all, just a straightforward, honest question.

"Yeah, I do."

"Good, 'cause friends should like each other." said Jim, eyes widening so they made him look like the baby owl that sometimes came into her backyard.

Pam giggled.

"What?"

"You're funny, Jim."

"Thanks, Pam."

"You wanna walk back to class together?" asked Jim, finishing his sandwich as the bell rang.

"Sure."

They laced their hands together with childish innocence, mouths still sticky from the peace offering, happy that the sun was shining, happy to have jam and cookies, and happy to have found each other.

* * *

Reviews are my strawberry jam!


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